


2030

by indiefic



Series: Balance [4]
Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: F/M, Not a Captain America fic, Original fictional character largely based on Peggy Carter, Pregnancy sex, but sort of if they were both completely dysfunctional post-apocolyptic survivors stuck on a train, very very very pregnant pregnancy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should be months before he sees her again, but they're taking him forward.  something is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2030

**Author's Note:**

> [GatorJen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GatorJen/pseuds/GatorJen) wrote this really lovely Captain America Steggy piece called Coming Home. It is a _beautiful_ story.
> 
> So I hope I don't offend her when I mention that this story is very loosely based on the beats of that story. Entirely different universes, characters, situations and mine is, of course, a thousand times filthier because its ... me.

**2030**

**Four months before the revolution**

 

“Hey,” Curtis says to Seth, leaning against the bunk, trying to be casual.  “You speak French, right?”

 

Seth looks over at him suspiciously, his long dark hair falling across his face.  “Quebecois.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Seth sighs.  “I’m from Quebec.  So if those fancy fat fucks are needing someone who speaks French, I do not speak _their_ French.”

 

“What?” Curtis says.  “No.  No, man.  This is for me.  Not a front section thing.”  Well, okay, it is, but Seth doesn’t need to know that.

 

“Why the fuck do you need to speak French?” Seth asks, canting his head to the side.

 

Curtis shakes his head.  “It’s a long story.  Look, can you teach me a few words?”

 

Seth studies him for a long moment.  “What’s in it for me?”

 

Curtis looks at the bunk, where one of Seth’s two rugrats is watching him with huge eyes.  “Two protein blocks?”

 

Seth looks at him.  “Done.”

 

* * *

 

 

This time, when they put the bag on his head, he doesn’t fight.  He has no idea what’s going on, but he’s bracing for the worst.  He isn’t great with the math of human biology, especially when it’s not his own, but he wasn’t expecting her to have had the baby already.  He wasn’t expecting to see her for months, at the earliest.  

 

His heart pounds in his throat as they drag him forward.  Did something happen?  Is something wrong?  Maybe her fat fuck of a husband found out and wants to beat him to death, which, really, is probably the most acceptable of the alternatives he’s imagining.

 

They finally stop and Curtis knows from the way the sound echoes that they’re in a mostly empty car.  The bag is ripped away and the soldier looks at him with disgust before turning and leaving, closing the gate behind him.  

 

He’s in the water plant.  What the fuck?  It’s all metal surfaces, pipes and nozzles.  Every sound echoes.   There is a girl standing there, watching him.  She doesn’t look much more than thirteen or fourteen, a train baby, with bright red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose.  How the hell does she get enough sun to have freckles?

 

He frowns, shaking his head.  “Nope.  No way.  Don’t do kids.”

 

The withering look she gives him, as if that is the most repulsive idea she has ever contemplated, does absolutely nothing for his ego.  Even if he is relieved.

 

She points at a showerhead.  “Wash.”  Her voice is high pitched, her words softened with a French accent.  She tosses him a bottle of liquid soap and a towel.  “You stink.”   She turns and goes to the far end of the car, giving him privacy.

 

He undresses and washes himself.  The water is cold, but it’s clean and he makes do.  He dries off with the scratchy towel and dresses again in his dirty clothes.  He continues to rub at his hands with the towel, scrubbing at the grime, walking toward the girl.  She watches him warily.

 

“This about her,” he says.  “Anna.”

 

She nods.  “The baby is late.”

 

He frowns.  “Is she okay?”

 

“The baby is late,” she says again.  “It needs to come soon.”

 

His frown deepens.  What the hell is he supposed to do about that?  His involvement was on the other end of the process.  He hasn’t even seen her in more than half a year.

 

The girl looks at him and smirks.  “Are babies not late in the tail section?”

 

Of course babies are late in the tail section.  They may be dirty back there, but they’re still humans, with all the human experience entails. There are no secrets in the tail section.  Everybody’s business is in full view, all the time.  So Curtis knows what women go through when they give birth.  

 

And he knows that one of the ways to try and start labor, when the baby isn’t coming ... is _sex_.  

 

“ _Oh_ ,” is all he says.

 

The girl shakes her head in obvious disgust and turns toward the forward gate.  This must be someone Anna trusts, though clearly she doesn’t share Anna’s fascination with him.  “Follow.”

 

They don’t go far, just into the next car.  As soon as they’re through the gate, she stops at a door, motioning for him to go inside.  It’s not the sleeper car they had the first time.  It’s much smaller, really just an extra large bunk and enough room to walk around it.

 

Anna is lying on the bunk, on her side, facing him.  She looks ... very unhappy.  And very uncomfortable.  

 

The girl says something to her and Anna replies in rapid fire French, none of which sounds even remotely close to the few things Seth taught him.  The girl nods and closes the door behind herself.  

 

Curtis stares down at Anna by the light of one dim, bare bulb.  This is her third pregnancy and he’s never seen her like this, round with his child.  She’s beautiful, as always.  Dark glossy hair and eyes, golden skin.  She’s the most attractive woman he’s ever laid eyes on and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she’s clean and smells so fucking good.  He’d love her if she was caked in dirt - though he’s happy she’s not.  He’s certain she is too.

 

Looking at her, he feels oddly possessive, territorial, but he says nothing.  She looks pissed, like _she’s_ tempted to beat him to death.  He knows that appearing pleased that she’s in her current condition will not win him any favors.

 

He swallows thickly, looking at her, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to help.  Firstly, he’s not sure she should be doing _that_ in her current state, as it looks like she’s ready to give birth at any moment.  And secondly, she looks like she might hurt him if he comes at her with ... intentions.

 

She sighs, shaking her head, covering her nose and he looks down at himself.  She puts up with him most of the time, but he suspects that right now she isn’t inclined to put up with much of anything.  He nods and undresses, shoving his dirty clothes under the bunk.

 

He climbs onto the bunk behind her, trying not to jostle her.  She has pillows shoved under herself in strategic places.  He tries to spoon against her, but she’s so hot.  He can feel warmth radiating off of her through the thin material of her loose dress.  She makes an impatient sound and shoves back against him and he moves back several inches.  

 

He just looks at her, having no idea what to do.  In his darker moments, he tortured himself by imagining her like this, with some fat fuck.  But he never imagined that he ...

 

Okay, that’s not true.  He imagined this.  And jerked off while he was imagining it.  They’ve spent _years_ apart. He’s imagined every goddamn thing it’s possible to imagine.  Every scenario from the sweet to the twisted.

 

He tries to think back to breeder complaints, as Edgar calls them.  He remembers Tanya crying because her hips and lower back hurt.  He had no idea Tanya could cry before that.  It seems like as good a place as any to start.  Tentatively, he reaches out and presses his fingertips into her lower back.  It’s several moments before she sighs and some of the tension goes out of her body.  

 

His fingers trace across her back and hips, rubbing.  He moves up to her shoulders and then down her legs.  He takes inventory of the changes in her body.  Her arms and face look thinner, like she belongs in the tail section.  But her belly is rounded and firm.  Her tits are enormous.  He’s known, in a very abstract way, that she has carried his children.  But to see her like this, to know that he did this, it gives him a visceral pleasure he hadn’t anticipated.  He presses his hips against her.

 

She groans, pushing back against him.  She pulls at her dress, hiking it up and she’s bare underneath.  Carefully, he lifts her leg.  He grabs an extra pillow and shoves it under her knee and slowly, carefully slides into her.  She hisses through her teeth and he honestly doesn’t know if it’s pain or enjoyment.  He thinks maybe she doesn’t know either.

 

He knows it’s not the act of sex, but rather the hormones in semen that are supposed to speed up labor.  He’s not sure what hormones. He’d tried to tune it out when he’d overheard.  Now he wishes he paid more attention.  He’s careful, but quick, as he doubts she’s enjoying this.  Sadly, it doesn’t take much.  He hasn’t seen her in six months.  It’s probably not even a minute later and he’s burying himself in her, biting back a groan as he comes.

 

He pants harshly and carefully withdraws.  “Well, that was impressive,” he says derisively, hoping to god that she wasn’t in the mood for impressive tonight.

 

She snorts.  He frowns, knowing she understands him.

 

He scoots closer to her and this time she doesn’t shove him away.  He coaxes her to lean backward far enough to kiss him.  She sighs into his mouth, scraping her nails along his scalp.  He reaches between her legs and rubs her intimately, trusting that if she’s not supposed to be doing this that she will stop him.

 

She comes for him, clutching at his arm.  She lays there, breathing hard, eyes closed.  She finally blinks up at him. He looks down at her.  “Hi,” he says.  “I missed you.”

 

She pulls him down for a kiss.

 

She finally has to roll completely over onto her side and he curls against her back, arm around her, his palm splayed against her belly.  “So, you’ve been busy,” he says conversationally.  She can pretend she doesn’t understand him if she wants, but he’s pretty much over it.  He sighs.  “So Tanya, she’s one of the women in the tail section.  Anyway, Tanya says that mothers always know if they’re having a boy or a girl.”  His fingers trace across her belly.  “So,” he says, looking down at her, “what’s in here?   _Fille_ or _garcon_?”

 

She looks up at him with a crooked smile.  She shifts, rearranging a pillow.  She places her hand over his and moves it so it’s situated on the top of her belly, right under her breasts.  It’s only a moment and he feels the little kicks.  He actually jumps, snatching his hand away.

 

She looks over her shoulder at him and laughs.  She takes his hand and coaxes him back to her.  Once again, she situates his hand against the top of her belly and in moments, he feels more kicks.  He shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around it.  He _knew_.  Of course he knew.  He’s not an idiot.  But it was one thing to look at her and feel all virile and manly and it’s quite another for there to be _an actual person_ in there.  Considering what they just did, he’s more than a little freaked out.

 

She laughs at him again and threads her fingers through his.  “ _Fille_ ,” she says, pronouncing it completely differently than he did.  

 

“A girl.”  He sighs, splaying his fingers wide.

 

They lay there for a long time.  She finally has to shift and he helps her rearrange pillows and rubs her back and hips again until she settles.  She’s lying so she’s facing him now.  He’s on his back, staring at the ceiling.  He holds up three fingers.  He points to the third finger and says, “ _Fille_.”

 

She blinks at him and reaches out.  She touches the second finger and says, “ _Garcon_.”

 

A boy.  He’d be a year and a half, maybe two.

 

Then she touches the first finger and says, “ _Fille_.”

 

His eldest.  His first daughter.  She’s got to be close to three.

 

He stares up at the ceiling again.  Two daughters and a son  His kids.  He looks over at her and she’s watching him in the dim light.  He reaches out and skims the back of his knuckle over her cheekbone.  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says quietly.  “I’m sorry I can’t be there for all of it.”  And he is.  He’s rarely been so sorry for anything.

 

She blinks quickly and looks away, but she reaches out and rests her hand against his chest.  He covers it with his own.  

 

* * *

 

 

He must have drifted off to sleep because he comes awake with a start to her sound of pain.  He’s up in an instant, watching as she screws her eyes shut against the pain, her hand shaking.  It seems to last forever, but it finally passes and she gasps for air.

 

“What can I do?” he asks, frantic.

 

“Vanessa,” she says, pointing to the door.

 

He grabs his trousers from under the bunk and throws them on, ripping open the door.  The girl is out there, sitting on the floor at the other end of the car, reading a book.  “Vanessa,” he hisses.

 

She jumps up and comes running.  She pushes him aside, speaking to Anna in French.  Abruptly, she crouches, reaching under the bunk and grabbing the rest of his clothes, thrusting them at him.  “It’s time,” she says.  “You go.”

 

There is an intercom on the wall and Vanessa speaks into it in French.  Curtis throws on his clothes, watching Anna the whole time.  Another wave of pain washes over her and he goes to her side.  She grabs his wrist, squeezing hard.  She is gasping for breath by the time it passes.  

 

There is an abrupt knock on the door and it opens to reveal two women, one his age and one older.  The elder one nods to Vanessa.  She grabs him by the upper arm and steers him out into the hall, pushing him back toward the water plant.  They pass through the gate and it closes behind them.

 

He stands there, in the middle of the water plant, listening to all the echoes.  He can’t hear anything from the car where Anna is.  He can’t help.  He knows that.  But he doesn’t want to leave her.  As usual, he has no choice.  Vanessa won’t look at him.

 

It’s not very long before the gate at the other end opens and two soldiers enter the car.  Curtis doesn’t fight as they cuff him and shove the bag over his head.

 

He thought he could do this.  He thought it was okay.  But now he’s not sure.  Now they’re not just ideas, they’re children.   _His_ children.   

 

And it goes without saying that Anna is his.  He doesn’t know what fat fuck thinks she belongs to him, but he’s wrong.  Anna will always be his.

 

END STORY

**Author's Note:**

> My plan right now is for this to be the last of the stories set pre and during the movie. Everything posted after this will be set after the end of the movie.


End file.
